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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS, 

Own. .^-^fon o^mfit Do, 

Shelf Liu?-# ^ 

UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 









































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Rhymes and Stories 


of 


Olden Times 


WITH NUMEROUS FULL-PAGE COLOR-PLATES 
AFTER PAINTINGS IN W^TER COLORS BY 

]E. perq> flftoran 


AND WITH DECORATIVE BORDERS AND OTHER DESIGNS, TOGETHER 
WITH NEW STORIES AND VERSES BY 

Elisabeth £>♦ Hucfcer 




NEW Y6RK 
Copyright y 1894, by 

ffrcDericfc S. Stoics Company 







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H Stor\> of ©Iben 
{Times. 


“ O IT down here by me, my little Alice, and you shall 
wZy hear me read a story, — yes, a true story about 
your own Great-Grandmother. She has written it here in 
this little book for us to read, the story of how she left 
her dear old home in sunny England to come across the 
wide ocean in a poor little boat, not at all like the wonder- 
ful steamers of nowadays. 

“ Your Grandmother, dear Alice, was a little girl, and 
well remembers the tiresome voyage over those long, long 
miles of tossing waves. There were many delights and 
novelties for her, as the sailors of the ship were very kind 
to her, and loved to toss her up in their strong arms, for 
she was never sick, and would stay up on the deck as 
long as she would be allowed to, looking out over the 
waves when others were down below in their berths. 
These sailors would tell her stories, and they grew very 
fond of seeing the little figure in her red cloak, watching 
them with her bright eyes, and listening to their songs. 

“ But her mother, with many other mothers, was ill 
all the long dreary way, and a sorry time they had, all 
crowded together in the stuffy little cabin down below. 










































































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H Storv? of ©Iben XTtmes. 

Many times Grandmother has told me of it all, and of how at last they got to the new, strange land which 
was our America, where they found such cold and rocky shores, and where their fathers had to build houses 
out of logs for them to live in, and had to build them strongly to keep out Indians and wolves. Everybody 
helped : even the little children carried things to help in the building. How glad they were for every little 
thing they had brought with them from England ! — pins and all such things, — for there was none at all in 
this new country. Oh, those were hard, hard times, little Dorothy, and they were brave people, your grand- 
parents, to do it all for freedom for us ! 



“And freedom we will have some day in this America, for even now thine own father, whose portrait 
hangs beside you, and all the fathers in the land are determined that we shall be free from English rule, 
even if there must be a war." 

Long, long ago these words were spoken, and this story, told to listening little Alice who is a Great- 
Grandmother now herself, and long ago gone away, — and see how the words of the gentle lady came true ! 
The war she told about did come. Alice’s father, and the fathers of her little friends, had the war that we 
celebrate on our Fourth of July, and to-day, in this dear land of ours, we are having the freedom they 
fought for. 

Be glad of those true-hearted, brave Great-GW^Z-GREAT-Grandfathers of yours, children dear. 

















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learning to Spin 


WEET little Prudence Wilson was learning how to 



spin. It was rather hard work for the tiny arms to 
reach the spindle and draw the thread — and for the little 
toes to reach the ground from the tall stool she sat 
on, was quite impossible. Still Prudence had to learn. 

The day was bright and sunny, and dear Sister Ruth 
and Prudence took embroidery frame and spinning-wheel 
out in front of the wide hall doors. It was very dis- 
tracting to hear the birds singing overhead, and to want 
so much to watch Wilfred at his fencing lesson on the 
lawn, with the other boys. But Prudence had to learn, 
for all little girls then were taught to spin, and to sew, 
and to embroider the stitches on samplers, that they 
would want to know how to do when they were young 
ladies. So Sister Ruth sang over her embroidery frame, 
and little Prudence listened, and they talked. 

Prudence said, “ When I grow to be a big young 
lady like you, Sister Ruth, I shall wear a lovely pink 
gown and have a tall lover like yours.” 

“ And what will you do for him, little Prudence,” asked 
Sister Ruth, smiling quietly over her work. 


























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Xearning to Spin. 


“ Oh, I will make him a beautiful, beautiful watch chain, all spun on the 
spinning-wheel, of my own, own hair, which shall all be cut off to make the 
thread. And if I am a prisoner in a castle tower, he will take the long, long chain 
spun from my hair, which I will throw him down from my window, and he will 
climb up it hand over hand, and take me in his arms, and climb down again, and 
away we will go, and live happily ever after.” 

‘fVery well,” said Sister Ruth, “then, Mistress Prudence, you must take 
your arms down from behind your head, and not stop to dream now, but learn to 
spin a strong thread, with no knots in it.” 

Then Prudence would go on spinning a long thread, while the kittens played 
with the other end of it. 

Then she would say, “ Sister Ruth, why does Wilfred have play in the open 
air, while I have to sit and sew, and embroider, and spin ?” 

Then Sister Ruth smiled again, and answered, “ It has ever been the way, 
dear Prudence, for men to do the out-of-door things, and manly sports, and 
for maidens to do the gentle things, those that keep us quiet in the house, and are 
useful to both men and maids. So tend to your quiet work, my dear, and stitch upon stitch is the only way.” 

So the sunny day came to a close, and many more of them also came and went. And many years of 
days have gone since then ; and to-day from a box, with a musty smell, I take an old sampler and read in all 
the stitches this story of long ago. 

It is all there is left — it, and an old spinning-wheel, which little girls to-day do not know how to use at 
all. Wilfred’s play and his sword are long ago done and over, yet here is the small bit of stitching that has 
lasted all the long years, to tell a great-grandchild the story of a little girl’s fingers patiently going in and 
out, while her small feet ached to run, and it seems to me a rather great thing to have done something that 
tells such a sweet story, and has lasted so very, very long. 












99 


66 


MJL OM A WINTER'S Ml 


@FF G©ES LITTLE F©LLY, ^LL ON A WINTER'S MY, 
SNGGGEEi W tflNO RGGGEL> W IN HER LITTLE SLEIGH, 
^MEEKJ’ ALL REO HNL> EYES ^LL BRIGHT, 

WOWING G2SBBTE WITH dLL HEIR FlIGHT, 


’WHY 0<IT ON THE RIVER, WITH IT J CRGSTY KE, 

GLITTERING HML> FLITTERING, SMSfiTH HNI§> BRIGHT 
HNI§> MBGE, 













































































































































































































































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“ Eli on a Winter's E> a?.” 


1HT THE FL<in-tARE'S U H4Rb, LITTLE SMTEO FINb, 


mb THE !E3T mb S^FE/T W^Y 
U T© F^SH HEMMED A SLEIQH. 


J4TCK FK©ST LIICES T© NIF A M©/E» HEL>E IT F^IJT 4Nb foEEF,' 

in to^ir rmq, wmn mb jeu% <^ll Y©qn. ^inFLEjr ikeef. 

3A^,K SHE <C©F1E3 WITH RAFIb ^LEL>E P 
WASN'T TH^!T A J©LLY RIbE? 





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H IDoll’s <Sreat=0rant>motber, 


I FOUND her in a garret one day, tucked away in the 
bottom of an old chest, — this old, old dollie ! She was 
such a funny-looking dear, and I took her out and smoothed 
her wrinkled and quaint gown of brocaded silk, wonder- 
ing how a little girl could have loved a doll with such ugly 
hands and queer hair. But a real little girl had loved her, 
and she was my own great-grandmother. For I found, 
pinned to her gown, a note, yellow with age, which told 
me all about her. This is what it said : 

“Written by my mother for me, to my dear grand- 
child who will first find this doll. Keep her always as 
I ’ve left her, for it is with tears I put her away, having 
grown too great a girl to play with her any more, as I am 
nine years old / She was sent to me from London, and 
cost 4 guineas, and her clothing, made by a fashionable 
dress-maker, cost £4, 4s., a great price for a doll ! I never 
shall forget the day I got her. I stood her in a chair and 
danced before her in my great pleasure. I loved her very 
much, and will tell you how I always thought she saved 
my life. 

“ I was playing alone on the beach, and, tripping my 
toe, I fell into a deep hole by the roots of a tree, and a 






















































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B ©oil's <5reat>Granbmotber. 


great heap of sand falling in with me nearly covered me up, and made it impossible for me to get out. I 
called, but no one heard, and my ankle, which I had twisted, becoming very painful, I fainted, and I surely 
should have been drowned by the tide which was coming in, while insensible, had it not been that my dear 
doll Florinda lay in such a manner that her foot and part of her gown were outside the sand in the hole, 
where I was buried, and Jim, the black boy, coming by, saw her lying there. He dug her out, and so dis- 
covered me and saved me. He was so excited that he left my poor dear doll behind, and the tide had 
already wet her, when I, waking up in my mother’s arms, called out for my Florinda, and Jim was hurried off 
to fetch her. The stain on her gown was caused by the salt water, and I hope you will love her very much, 
and keep her with care as I did. 

“ Your Loving Grandmother, 

“ In the 9th year of her age — 1 77 5.” 

Was n’t that the loveliest thing to find ? And she is my very own Great- Grandma, for her dollie was 
so hidden away that I was the first little girl to find it after all those years. We keep her as a great treasure, 
, and my dolls respect her very much, for she is their Great-Grandmother, I suppose. 





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B Colonial IReb IRibing Iboob 


was the day before Christmas, many years ago. 

busy preparing for the happy day, in 
in those Colonial days. The 
Christmas had to be just as much like the Christmases in 
Old England as they could have it in the New England, 
for the sake of the old folks who had spent the holidays 
of their childhood in the Old England. The house was 
all trimmed with greens from top to bottom, and even the 
great Yule Log was carried in on Xmas Eve, decked with 
wreaths of holly. Only here it was carried in by grinning 
Sambo and Pompey — the jolly servants of the new country. 
Little Red Riding Hood went all alone that day clear all 
the way to Grandmother Pennyhurst’s. It was a mile away 
and over the snowy country. Everybody was busy 
putting up greens, and Cousin Althea even had a bunch of 
mistletoe which she hung high in a rather conspicuous 
place in the hall. It came in a box from England, with 
some holly from the dear old homestead there, and Little 
Red Riding Hood thought of how dearly Grandma 
Pennyhurst would love to have in her Christmas decora- 
tions a bit of the real old holly from her own home. So 


X Everybody 
the way they used to do 












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H Colonial Xittle IReb IRi&tncj 1boo&. 


she picked out a nice big spray, and putting on her cloak, like the other Red Riding Hood, set off across the 
road all by herself. 

It seemed a very long way, and it began to grow dark sooner than she had thought it would, and as 
she trudged along she felt a bit lonely. Suddenly, out of the bushes beside the road, she saw two fiery 
eyes, and out stepped a great gray dog, who had a fierce red mouth and who snarled at her when she spoke 
kindly to him, and did not seem a bit friendly. He slouched along beside her a few steps, sniffing at her 
cloak, and then throwing up his head he gave a long queer howl, and trotted off into the woods across 
the road. 

Then the little girl was frightened indeed, for she knew that howl was the howl of a wolf ! She was 
very glad to look up and find the house so near, just across the field now. And as she ran quickly towards 
it over the snow by the shortest cut, she realized it all. This, she was sure, was the Real Wolf in the story 
of Little Red Riding Hood, who seeing her red cloak had thought her to be that same little girl going to 
Grandmother’s with her basket ; but when he sniffed at her cloak, he knew it was not the same, and so 
he ran away again. 

When she reached the house, and told them about her adventure, her Grandmother clasped her Little 
Red Riding Hood closely in her arms and said : “ My darling child, you have escaped a great danger ! That 
was the wolf that has lately carried off Farmer Black’s lambs from his fold, and he only ran away because he 
saw the house was so near ! ” 

This was what Grandma thought of it. Which do you think was the true version — hers or the 
little girl’s ? 
























































































































































































































